


Handful of Relief

by blitzturtles



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blitzturtles/pseuds/blitzturtles
Summary: Aziraphale doesn’t indulge in sleeping as often as Crowley does. He doesn’t often see the appeal, but that doesn’t mean he minds sitting in bed with Crowley while the demon rests on. If anything, Aziraphale finds it to be incredibly relaxing. Having Crowley so close keeps Aziraphale’s mind from imagining something awful happening to him. He knows Crowley is beside him, safe and snoring occasionally. Besides, it gives Aziraphale a chance to stretch out his legs while still getting reading or work done, and he can always miracle up something if he needs it.





	Handful of Relief

Aziraphale doesn’t indulge in sleeping as often as Crowley does. He doesn’t often see the appeal, but that doesn’t mean he minds sitting in bed with Crowley while the demon rests on. If anything, Aziraphale finds it to be incredibly relaxing. Having Crowley so close keeps Aziraphale’s mind from imagining something awful happening to him. He knows Crowley is beside him, safe and snoring occasionally. Besides, it gives Aziraphale a chance to stretch out his legs while still getting reading or work done, and he can always miracle up something if he needs it.

He’s most of the way through a page when Crowley draws his attention with a small sound that might be best described as a whine. Aziraphale watches him for a moment, but nothing happens for several minutes. The demon continues to sleep as if nothing happened, so Aziraphale picks back up where he left off.

It happens again ten minutes later. Only, this time, the whine is accompanied with a kick that doesn’t quite reach Aziraphale but draws his attention all the same. He reaches out to gently shake Crowley’s shoulder with the intention of waking him up enough to hopefully chase away whatever is bothering him.

Aziraphale doesn’t expect the strangled sound that escapes out of Crowley. Perhaps more heartbreaking is the way that Crowley tries to shrink back from him.

“Oh,” he says quietly, voice almost pained, “Dear boy, it’s only me. Aziraphale.” He reaches again, this time with some hesitance. He tries to keep his touches gentle, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Crowley works himself as far backward as he can, but he’s only managing to tangle his limbs into the sheets rather thoroughly. 

He tries for Crowley’s hair next. A gentle carding of his fingers through the soft, red mess, but that doesn’t help either. Crowley’s babbling now. Incoherently, thank the Almighty, but it grips at Aziraphale’s chest anyways. 

“I’m here,” perhaps he can talk to him long enough to soothe nightmares back into something a bit less awful. “No one will hurt you so long as I’m here.” They’ve been through enough. He won’t allow anyone to ever lay a hand on Crowley again, and this is exactly why. Every last bit of suffering lingers whether Crowley will admit to it or not.

Carefully, Aziraphale shimmies down, so that he’s lying on his side and facing Crowley. It pains him to keep from reaching out, but it nearly kills him to see how Crowley reacts to his touch.

His attempts are largely unsuccessful, and it frustrates him to feel so powerless when he shouldn’t be. He feels his wings at the surface of his skin, itching restlessly, and that feels a bit like the cherry on top of an already truly awful cake. It’s only natural that they react, considering how tense he feels. Frustration and upset does that. 

Then he gets an idea and decides to pull them into the current plane of existence. He carefully drapes one, large wing over Crowley’s form. He hopes the warmth from them breaks the illusions likely made up of memories that his demon is caught up in. 

Crowley’s hand shoots out with part of the sheet remaining between his fingers. He gets a handful of the underside of Aziraphale’s wing. To his credit, the angel doesn’t flinch in the slightest. He refuses to budge and simply holds his breath while waiting.

Eventually, Crowley relaxes. His fingers loosen in Aziraphale’s feathers, but he doesn’t fully release his hold. That’s fine with the angel, who is far happier to see Crowley’s face soften. A little sigh follows, and Crowley snuggles back in for awhile yet. 

Aziraphale smiles warmly and decides on chancing touching Crowley now that he’s more relaxed. He reaches for the mop of red and brushes through it, only half-heartedly attempting to fix it up to something a bit less directionless.


End file.
